


Play The Thought

by Rubynye



Series: Five Het Stories About The Robins [3]
Category: DC Comics
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-14
Updated: 2010-01-14
Packaged: 2017-10-06 06:27:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rubynye/pseuds/Rubynye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You look tense, Robin. Let's spar."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Play The Thought

Title: Play The Thought  
Fandom: DC Comics  
Rating: NC-17  
Summary: "You look tense, Robin. Let's spar."   
Pairing: Ravager IV/Robin III (Tim/Rose)  
Warnings/Features: het, issues  
Spoilers For/Based On: Current _Teen Titans_ OYL run, as of 34&amp;35  
Graciously Beta-Read by: [](http://brown-betty.livejournal.com/profile)[**brown_betty**](http://brown-betty.livejournal.com/)   
Acknowledgements to: [](http://stephl.livejournal.com/profile)[**stephl**](http://stephl.livejournal.com/), who [gave me the plotbunny](http://stephl.livejournal.com/357391.html).   
Disclaimer: These characters belong to DC Comics.

 

She finds him crouched among what's left of Starfire's flowers. There isn't much besides a few stems of rather strange green, almost choked by grass and dandelions; all of Tim's attempts at gardening seemed to encourage the weeds, so he eventually gave up. Still, he comes to look at them sometimes, to think about how far those seeds came, about the brighter sun they evolved beneath. To think about nothing at all. That's where Ravager finds him.

"You look tense, Robin. Let's spar." Rose smirks down at Tim, her silky white hair falling across her eye patch, and not for the first time her expression makes him try to calculate the odds that she knows his real name; she's never called him by it, but any pretense of loyalty convincing enough to fool Deathstroke likely involved some exchange of secrets. The year away was beneficial to Tim's relationship with Dick, both professional and otherwise, despite or perhaps because some subjects were never mentioned. The Wilsons were among those subjects.

Still, Ravager's a Titan now, Tim's teammate. And an attractive woman of his age. He nods as he stands, and follows her inside to the training rooms.

They choose the one at the end of the hall by unspoken agreement, entering side by side. The lights automatically come on when the door opens; she lunges before her foot hits the mat, he ducks and rolls, and it's on. She feints as if to throw shuriken, laughs as his batarang whisks through her hair and dives for his legs, and Tim can kick and evade and punch and just not think as he and Rose spin around each other in a blur of almost-connecting blows, leaps and dodges, her blue-and-orange armor and flying white hair and unflagging grin.

Tim's kick to Rose's ribs knocks her backwards, and she wobbles on her backflip. "Nice one, Boy Wonder," she gasps, teeth and eye shining as he leaps between the dagger thrown high and the bolo thrown low. "Oooh, look at that air. Who needs fliers anyway?"

He knows she means Cassie, but it's Kon's smile Tim suddenly recalls, Kon's hands around his wrists or under his arms or round his waist as they flew. His eyes shut on the images, and the moment of distraction means he looks up barely in time to see her fist fill his field of vision, barely in time to see her shining grin disappear in a sparking burst of pain as she connects with his eye. He staggers back, blocking on instinct, blinking through the haze, and when his vision clears Rose is down on one knee, her head turned.

She might actually be injured. Tim opens his mouth, but before he can speak Rose's head snaps around, hair flying as she lunges; a one-handed flip, leading heel up, and Tim knows that move, intimately. It looks slightly different on a female body, on a differently built frame; Batgirl would have described it as the same word in a different voice. Tim spins away from Rose's kick, watching her, thinking of the last time he saw Batgirl; Cass used that move to drive her heel into the jaw of a man with a pipe. Rose arches fluidly past Tim, pushes off the wall, backflips, and he knows that continuation too, knows how it feels to keep from overrotating it. Rose learned it where Cass learned it, where Tim learned it. From Dick.

He sidesteps out of range, watching her as she moves like Dick. Or, rather, he lets himself think he has. Rose's spin is graceful and efficient, and her hair hits him first, skimming across his face; Tim jerks away but she whirls into him, slamming her palms into his chest, hooking her heel behind his ankle. Tim reflexively grabs her wrists, to keep her hands from his face, to protect her, and she pulls her other foot up his leg and around his waist as he goes down under her.

Even through the armor she knocks the breath out of him.

"Hey, Robin," she purrs, her hair brushing his face like fingers, her lips plump and red and smiling. "Gotcha."

"Get up, Rose." He pushes at her shoulders, not nearly as hard as he should. She leans into his hands as if he's stroking her, grinning all the wider. "Get off me."

"Why, Wonder Boy?" She leans down, bringing her glowing mouth and eye and hair closer, her breath warm on his face. Tim remembers a sleeker costume, rounder hips under his hands, but the same pose, the same flushed cheeks, the same bright heat. "Do you want me off?"

Tim doesn't say anything, even though he should, and Rose leans down and kisses him until he sinks his hand into her hair and kisses her back.

Straight silky hair and flexible scaled armor, hot soft lips and hands strong enough to hurt. Tim pushes Rose up as he kisses her, sitting up to face her, and she winds her arms around his neck confidently, unsnapping his cape, moaning theatrically and pressing against him. Her suit is textured, dragging against his armor, nothing like sleek spandex or eggplant nylon, and she bites his lip too hard.

He growls to encourage her.

Rose pulls one hand back and wiggles, and her belt thumps to the mats. She'll go for his next, and he wonders if it might be better to let her get the shock. No, it'd just incite her, and he doesn't want to play this like that. So he takes his own belt off and tosses it back out of her reach; as he does she runs her hand over his shoulder, almost as lightly as if it's bare. It's the sort of touch he wants to push into.

He doesn't. He needs to breathe, anyway, and when he pulls away and opens his eyes---why did he close them?--- Rose winks at him and strips off her gloves with her teeth. Tim watches her, watches her tip her head back and her hands pull free; her hair across his fingers is straight and white, not blonde, not black, and when he realizes he's watching its slide and tumble he clenches his fist around a handful, pulling her head back. Yanking, really.

Rose winces, eye flaring wide, and grins. "I knew you were the bossy type." She slides her hand across his ribs, down to his waist. "So that's why you never hooked up with Wonder Bitch." She's close, warm under her armor, breath damp on his cheek. "An Amazon sure wouldn't let any man boss her around---"

"Shut up." Tim only realizes he's shaking her when he sees her head moving, and makes himself stop. "Don't talk about her."

"Make me," Rose retorts, eyebrows and smirk sharp, and Tim kisses her. Hard enough to feel her teeth through her lips, hard enough to taste blood, and Rose growls and grabs his hair with both hands, pulling him in.

Rose twists against Tim like she can get even closer, holding herself up with her grip on his hair, sucking on his lower lip. She tastes like blood and candy, smells like sweat and smoke, and he knows the last is from cigarettes on the roof, not fires and cordite, but... she tastes good. She feels good, hot inside her armor, moving under his hands. He concentrates on her, on sliding his hands down the small of her back and over her slimmer, leaner hips, on kissing her hard enough to hear her kitten-growl again, on not thinking.

She pulls her hands away again, holding him with her teeth sunk in his lip, and shoves her tights down, bare damp skin under Tim's gauntlets. He remembers how that feels, and strokes her hips before he remembers the texturing on his palms. He pulls his hands off her, and she grabs his wrists and presses his hands to her skin again, pushing his right hand around in front of her. "Like this," she gasps against Tim's throbbing mouth, and in that breathless whisper she almost sounds like--- "Like this, I like it like this, I like the gloves." Her voice swells into something low and unmistakably hers, no one else's. Tim nods, and he remembers how to do this; her thighs are slickly wet, and when he touches her she shudders all over and groans against his mouth. "Oh, yeah. Oh. God---"

Tim kisses her before she can say anything else. He runs his fingertip over her clit, and she jerks so hard he can barely hold her, gasping and shaking and biting him between groans. She scrabbles at his tights, and he should let go of her to push them down, but the way her waist flexes in the crook of his arm... and his hand is still tangled in her colorless hair. He stares at it, biting his lip to stay quiet as she bites down on his jaw and drags his tights down far enough to fumble open his jock and take him in hand.

Rose likes his gauntlet --- she definitely likes his gauntlet, the way she's gone from groans to high-pitched whimpers, vibrating through her teeth into his jaw--- but he's glad her hands are bare. The long fingers, those particular calluses, are uniquely hers. It would be unfair to be reminded of anyone else's. She's not really stroking him so much as clutching him spasmodically as he bites the inside of his cheek and she bites the outside, as he concentrates on the rhythm of stroking till she presses her thighs tightly around his wrist and jerks against his hand with a high-pitched yelp and comes.

As she shakes, he turns his head to brush his lips against her cheekbone, feeling the flush rising in her cheek. She feels like late nights and high places after a good hard fight, the way rising bruises heat everything that much more, the pulse of adrenaline and racing heartbeats. Tim wants to kiss her gently. He wants to push two fingers into her, to push her to the mats and enter her. He shakes his head mentally and starts stroking again, and she shakes and laughs and says, "wait, wait a--"

Tim speeds his hand, and Rose gasps and kisses him, squeezing his thigh hard. Her pulse is pounding in her neck, against his shoulder; Tim slides his free hand up over her heart, feeling it beating strongly at a normal rate for an excited human. Rose giggles breathlessly into his mouth and twists to push her breast into his hand, just slightly warm through all the layers. Tim wonders if he should push his hand under her top, if he should pull off his gauntlet; he tries to wonder if he wants to, and gives that up when Rose shudders against him as she starts to come again. She takes longer this time, head tipped back, eye open and blank, and he wonders about possible triggers for her precognition and watches her flush deepen from pink to red in a wave up her throat, until she sags onto his shoulder and laughs low and breathlessly.

"Oh, damn." Rose lifts her head and smiles at Tim, almost sweetly, as if they're ordinary teenagers. "Man, mmm. Nothing beats Titans team-bonding, huh?" Tim tugs at his hand a little, and Rose tightens her thighs around his wrist, her smile sharpening into a smirk. "And I should know, Robin, I was here before you were." Her hands tighten on his thigh and his dick.

When she's smirking, Rose looks like her father. "With a slight hiatus." Tim smirks back, as her eye widens, then narrows, and her full lips press tight.

"Anyway." She lowers her head a little, looking up through her eyelashes. It's a pose. It's not a bad one. "I wanna see my lipstick on you."

"I have plenty." Sticky and slightly sweet on his mouth, smudged across his cheek and jaw. His hand is still trapped in sleek warmth; he should want more strongly to free it.

Rose grins. "Not up here, dummy." She brushes his lips with her fingers, and her mouth. Then she scoots back on her knees, pushing her hair out of the way as she leans down.

"Wait," Tim says, and he didn't when she asked him to, but she does, looking up. "I-- let me get a condom."

Rose blinks, and purses her lips. "I don't catch colds." But she lets him go, and Tim moves a little less quickly than his achingly hard dick would like him to, so he can do this smoothly and not look like a fumbling idiot as he reaches for his belt. He pulls out one of the condoms Dick tucked there as a hopeful joke when putting his new suit on him. This might not be how Dick expected him to use them. Or, it might be. They never talk about the Wilsons.

She takes the packet from him, rips it open almost incautiously, and unrolls the condom onto him, then goes down like she doesn't have a gag reflex. Tim gasps aloud, and can feel her muffled chuckle, before she sucks hard and steadily and his eyes briefly roll back.

He wants to close his eyes. He wants to pull off his gloves, and feel wavier, darker hair under his hands. He wants to come, and Rose is swallowing around him, and if he lets himself she can make him in very short order. So he sinks into it, watching her bob her head, and doesn't think about black hair or blonde, until he can't see anymore and he orgasms with his mind full of nothing but the sight of soft white hair.

Rose sits up and folds her arms around Tim's neck till he stops gasping, then sits back on her knees. "You taste good, Wonder Boy. Even with the latex." Tim's hands are still shaking, but he strips off the condom before Rose does. Just to be careful. "You should grow your hair a little longer, though."

"Even if I do, I won't look like Nightwing." Tim knots it and refastens his jock.

Rose is too busy looking at his face and mentally comparing them to notice. "Which of us'd you be more jealous of, if I'd fucked him?" As if. Tim knows she didn't, thinks about how much she owes the swear jar, and smiles a little as he pulls up his tights. Rose notices now, and frowns. "We're not done, are we?"

"We've been in here too long already." Tim stands up, picking up his belt and cape as he goes. Rose's cheeks are soft red, her hair is a wild cascade, and the armored top and crumpled tights frame her bare thighs. The bites on Tim's face and jaw burn beneath his skin, but he can simply watch her now, frowning at him as he straightens his suit.

"But... so you're not gonna fuck me." She looks like an essential element of a plan just fell through. It's funny, and it makes Tim feel old even though they were born in the same year, and if he laughs she'll hurt him in earnest.

So he just shrugs and fastens his belt, turning towards the door.

Rose growls, and pulls up her tights. And lunges. Tim pulls his cape aside as she flies under it; she dives and rolls, but still slams into the wall in a splash of white hair. "Team meeting at 1830," he says, as she's muttering curses and getting her feet beneath her, and walks towards and out the door.


End file.
